“We’ve both done some things we regret,” Beth told him. And it was true. She had shut him out, long before Kane and Harper broke into their lives. She’d stopped trusting him, picked fights over nothing. Harper and Kane had shoved them over a cliff—but they’d made it to the edge all by themselves. Maybe this was their do-over. “But maybe if we start off slow, forget the past … that is, if you still want to.”
He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed them softly. “More than anything.” He suddenly looked at his watch. “It’s midnight,” he told her with surprise. “Happy New Year.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “I think it will be.”
And then he kissed her.
“Happy New Year!” the roomful of drunken revelers shouted, throwing confetti and flinging themselves into one another’s arms.
Miranda spotted Greg across the room, making out with some random girl. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from them, Greg’s hands running through her hair, their bodies wound together. That used to be her—could have been her.
She had hated kissing Greg, she reminded herself. It had been a total drag, long and wet and boring.
But standing there alone on yet another New Year’s Eve, watching all these couples start off their year together, she wondered: Maybe her standards were too high, unrealistic. Maybe settling was better than being alone.
“There you are, Stevens!”
Miranda whirled around to see Kane, a wide grin stretched across his face, lurching toward her. He flung his arms around her and whirled her off the ground, and then, before she knew what was happening, gave her a wet and sloppy kiss. On the lips.
He had kissed her.
Kane’s lips had just touched hers.
“Happy New Year!” he shouted, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Miranda barely heard him.
He’d kissed her.
And now, she was standing there, nestled beneath his arm, leaning against him, breathing in his familiar cologne.
He was obviously drunk or high—maybe both—it was the only time he ever showed any genuine affection to anyone. But Miranda didn’t care. The alcohol, the drugs, whatever, they’d just loosened him up, cracked through that impenetrable veneer and dragged his real feelings to the surface.
He’d come to find her, at midnight—he’d kissed her. Not Beth, not any of his double-D ditzes. Her.
So he was drunk. So it had probably been a “just friends” kiss. So what? She was starting out the new year in Kane Geary’s arms, and whatever happened next, she would always have this moment, this night.
And for right now, that was enough.
Harper watched Kane and Miranda celebrate together and smiled sadly. Miranda would be so pathetically happy at even the tiny, drunken show of affection. The next day she’d call Harper and they would spend hours dissecting the single moment. And the day after that? When she found out, as she inevitably would, that Harper had betrayed her, had pushed her “one true love” into the arms of their worst enemy?
Then she’d be gone from Harper’s life, just like everyone else.
She’d just lost Miranda, even if Miranda didn’t know it yet. But she couldn’t muster up the strength to care. How could she focus on a trivial pain like that when her entire body, her whole being, was throbbing with the agony of having lost Adam? When he’d turned his back on her and walked away, she’d felt like a piece of herself had died.
If he’d only gotten angry. If he’d yelled, screamed, kicked something—anything but that cold, dead voice, those empty eyes. As if anything that had ever been between them was just—gone.
Her life was in ruins. Reduced to rubble.
Harper stood in the middle of the party, the crowd surging around her. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream or tear at her hair or fall to the floor or do anything that might betray the searing pain within, that might show the world she’d been torn in two.
That wasn’t her way—and, after all, what would people think?
So she stood there, still, a frozen smile fixed on her face, and watched the celebration. All around her, people were laughing, hugging, starting their New Year off right, together.
And still she stood, unseen, unmoving—unloved.
And maybe that was exactly what she deserved.
Under other circumstances, Kaia supposed she would have enjoyed the little show put on by Haven High’s resident star-crossed lovers. But for some reason, she hadn’t. Maybe because she hated to see her carefully crafted plans laid to waste, or maybe because her brief alliance with Harper had inspired a twisted kind of loyalty. Maybe it was just because, with two hot guys in her pocket—the sexy prince and the equally sexy pauper—she was feeling unusually charitable. Whatever the reason, she was displeased to see Harper take such a blow—and while Harper had tried her best to play it off, grin and bear it, Kaia wasn’t buying. She could see beneath Harper’s surface.
And she didn’t like what she saw.
She suspected that when she found Adam and Beth—who had quietly and conveniently disappeared—she would like that sight even less. Why should Mr. And Mrs. Holier Than Thou get to ride off into the sunset together, no harm, no foul?
Kaia hadn’t given anyone any gifts this year. She hadn’t felt there was anyone in her life who deserved an act of generosity. But, suddenly, she changed her mind. Harper could use a little pick-me-up—and Kaia knew just what to get her.
This one’s for you, Harper, she thought, heading off in search of her prey. You’d better appreciate it.
Beth didn’t know how much time had passed—a minute, an hour—she knew only that she was back in Adam’s arms, and she felt so happy, so safe. She felt like she’d come home. From out here on the front lawn, you could barely hear the party raging inside. It was as if they were all alone. Together.
“Well, well, well, so this is what ‘happily ever after’ looks like.”
Beth and Adam sprang apart at the sound of Kaia’s caustic voice. Beth glanced over at their unwanted trespasser with disgust, but just smiled tightly and said nothing.
Adam wasn’t so polite. “Do you mind?” he snarled. “We’re busy”
“So I can see,” Kaia said with a smile. “Don’t mind me. I just wanted to congratulate the happy couple.”
Adam put a possessive arm around Beth and glared at Kaia. “Now you’ve done it,” he said. “So go.”
“Okay,” she agreed cheerfully. “Good night—and good luck. I hope you actually manage to get her into bed this time.”
Beth flinched, but the warm pressure of Adam’s hands kept her still.
Ignore her, Beth instructed herself.
“And as for you.” Kaia turned to Beth, who steeled herself and promised she wouldn’t reward Kaia with a reaction, no matter what the other girl said. “I hope you’ll be more satisfied by him than I was.”
And she walked away.
Adam’s face had turned white, all the blood drained away.
“What did she mean by that?” Beth asked, turning to him in hope—and desperation. “What’s she talking about?”
Adam was silent. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, and he finally closed it again.
“Adam, what does she mean?” Beth asked again, her voice taking on a tinge of panic because, already, she knew. The look on Adam’s face, the look on Kaia’s—maybe Beth had always known. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t asked, hadn’t let herself wonder why Kaia had suddenly appeared in—and, just as inexplicably, disappeared from—his life.
“You slept with her, didn’t you?” Beth asked harshly, her tone brittle. She felt brittle—as if a single touch could shatter her into a million pieces.
He said nothing.
“You slept with her while we were still together,” Beth insisted now, with less of a question in her voice.
Still, Adam stood there infuriatingly mute.
“Say something!”
He grabbed her hands, but this time she whipped them away, covering her face. “
Just tell me it’s not true.”
“I can’t,” he finally admitted.
Her body turned to stone—starting with her heart.
“Beth, can’t we just—you said we could make a fresh start—”
“Get away from me,” she told him in a husky voice.
“I can’t just leave you, not like this,” he protested, approaching her. She backed away, almost tumbling backward over the uneven ground.
“I said, get away from me!” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stop herself from exploding. Not from yelling or flying at him in a rage, both of which she would have been happy to do if she’d been able, but from literally exploding, from letting the hurt and anger rip her to shreds from the inside out.
“Now, Adam. Go.”
And so he did.
Beth stumbled blindly down the long driveway toward the dark, empty street below. She supposed that she could find someone to give her a ride home, but she preferred to walk. It would take her all night, trudging for miles along the empty highway, but that was all right. She needed the time to think, to plan.
Because this wasn’t like before, Beth realized, when Adam had tossed her out with the garbage in what she now realized was a hypocritical fit of jealous rage. She wasn’t broken. She wasn’t distraught.
She was angry. And the anger made everything clear.
Harper. Kane. Kaia. Adam. They’d all betrayed her. They’d played their little games with her life, kicked her back and forth like a soccer ball, destroyed her, again and again.
So what was she supposed to do now? Go home and cry? Gorge herself on ice cream and whine about how the world was ever so unfair? Blunder through life finding someone else to trust, only to be crushed and stomped on once again?
She didn’t think so.
The old Beth might have cried her way home. And, like a nice girl, a good girl, she would have wept, and waited, and wept, until finally, she’d moved on. She’d get past it.
But not this time—not this Beth.
She walked home dry-eyed, her fists clenched, her mind racing.
Because this time, she wasn’t going to get past it.
She wasn’t going to get over it.
She was going to get even.
about the author
Robin Wasserman enjoys writing about high school—but wakes up every day grateful that she doesn’t have to relive it. She recently abandoned the beaches and boulevards of Los Angeles for the chilly embrace of the east coast, as all that sun and fun gave her too little to complain about. She now lives and writes in New York City, which she claims to love for its vibrant culture and intellectual life. In reality, she doesn’t make it to museums nearly enough, and actually just loves the city for its pizza, its shopping, and the fact that at three a.m. you can always get anything you need—and you can get it delivered.
Robin Wasserman, Pride
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